Today, my friend and her five teenagers left to go home. Goodness, the house seems empty. And quiet. I really miss the hubbub. I tried, twice, to upload pictures, but flipping blogger is making me crazy. I can't even comment on Cara's blog anymore.
Today, I went to my class, like always, and we watched a play. "Wit". It was about a woman dying of cancer. The loss of her hair. Her attempts to keep her own fear at bay with her sardonic wit. When she reported to the hospital with chills and shaking, I thought, 'neutropenia', in a sort of third person sort of way. The story went on, and I continued to recognize small moments. There are some things which are common to all of us, I suppose, and then suddenly, she was dying, and it was graphic, and she was afraid, and it was as if I were watching my own worst fears played out for the class to see. It was exhausting keeping my own emotions to myself, and when the movie was blessedly over, I went to the restroom, and was exhausted in privacy.
It's been a hard time. An acquaintance died last month, and her husband wants to talk about her last days. Changing her diapers. Her realization in the night that she was dying. Hospice. I listen because it seems the kind thing to do for his sake, but I don't want to know these things. I don't want to hear these stories.
Ann discovered yesterday that she is metatastic. I read, and I'm shaken by her news.
I don't know why I am affected by these things, but I am, and I feel ridiculous. I sit and listen to the thunder and the rain outside and I feel sapped. Just tired. So I am going to curl up on the sofa and finish "Into the Wild" for my class. And if I fall asleep, this will not be a bad thing.
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